


Scars

by Fandomsexual



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Smut, Therion is a grumpy jerk with commitment issues and I don't apologize for writing him that way, but with that said: MY POOR BB ALFYN
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-06-28 08:22:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15703446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandomsexual/pseuds/Fandomsexual
Summary: Therion works alone. A lifetime of hard-learned lessons have taught him that it's better that way, so even he is confused as to why he's found himself traveling with the most obnoxiously easy-going person he's ever met. Even more concerning is the fact that his chest constricts every time the young apothecary looks at him...





	1. Scar Tissue

**Author's Note:**

> Therion is a grumpy jerk with commitment issues, you've been warned. Alfyn was my main character, and Therion the first character I recruited, so this is set early in the game, before they've linked up with anyone else. Therion's concept art shows him shirtless, and his torso's just covered in scars. I figure Alfyn wouldn't be able to ignore something like that, and this was born.
> 
> Also, while this fic is entirely consensual, there's a tiny, tiny hint of almost-non-con, so if you're super sensitive to that, you might wanna skip.

"That'll do her," Alfyn chirped happily, smoothing down the freshly wrapped bandages. They had stopped, at his instance, to help an elderly woman whose legs were bristling with thorns. She had, apparently, lost her balance and fallen into some kind of stinging shrub; yet another reason Therion was less-than-fond of the great outdoors. He tried to hurry them along, that wound wasn't going to kill her or anything, and it was none of their business, anyway. Unforuately, the stubborn, cocky apothecary and his aw-shucks niavite had somehow won out.

 

Therion lounged impatiently under the shade of a nearby tree, turning an apple in his nimble fingers, alternating between glaring and rolling his eyes as Alfyn showered the woman with warm words, praises, and instructions to change the bandages and apply salve when she got home. Ruffling his blonde hair, which was nothing short of a mess of an embarrassingly bad cut, the bumpkin, once again, refused payment. This entire, pointless delay had left the thief in desperate need of a drink, so of course Alfyn was going to turn down the very coin that would afford them some quality time in a tavern.

 

_Why in Aelfric's name did I even start talking to this idiot? _Therion wondered bitterly to himself.__

 

Sending the woman on her way, Alfyn turned to face Therion, tangling his fingers in his messy hair as he grinned.

 

Ah. There it was. That idiot's smiling face, and those with those stupid yet earnest eyes, which caused Therion's pulse to quicken in an unfamiliar and infinitely uncomfortable way. Clenching his jaw, the thief hid his unease behind a glare, lowering his eyes. He snorted softly, as if he could rid himself of these alien sensations with one strong breath. The sooner this befuddling mess of useless emotions passed, the better.

 

"There, that didn't take so long, did it?" Alfyn asked brightly, tromping casually towards Therion. A clump of long grass caught his attention, delaying him just long enough to pluck a fresh sprig to hold between his lips.

 

"You didn't charge her, did you?" Therion asked casually, looking at his apple, instead of the apothecary's face, as if he hadn't been paying close attention to every word the other man uttered, every movement he made, every smile, gesture, and touch.

 

"Aw, it was nothing," Alfyn shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets as he started down the road again, whistling a cheery tune. That cursed whistling was going to be the death of them, Therion thought as he trailed quietly behind, glaring at the taller man's back. It announced their presence, interfered with his ability to listen for threats, and set his nerves on end. "No reason to charge a sweet little old lady for a little salve and some bandages. Besides, those nettles would've burned for weeks if I hadn't done something."

 

"All right, if you say so," Therion snorted, slouching down into his scarf and mantle, hiding a smirk.

 

"Hey--wait a minute." Alfyn spun on him so suddenly that Therion's hand shot instinctively to the hilt of his dagger. "You let that go way too quickly!" Therion slouched further into his scarf, frowning as the apothecary loomed over him--damn the bumpkin and his impressive height. "What'd you do?"

 

The sudden movements of the taller man set Therion's mind ablaze with a flurry of activity, though the panic subsided as quickly as it had surfaced. Alfyn wasn't wasn't going to take a swing at him, and Therion forced his pulse to slow as he lifted his chin to meet the apothecary's eyes. His shoulders squared as he rose defiantly out of his slouch, ignoring the short twinge of tight pain across his shoulder. His dark eyes narrowing for the briefest of moments before an arrogant little smirk slipped across his mouth.

 

"Nothing," he drawled with feigned nonchalance. He stepped causally around the apothecary, strolling forward once more, trying to ignore the quiet jangle of the bangle around his wrist. Alfyn didn't reply, still rooted to the spot as his green eyes followed the thief. When he made no effort to neither move nor speak, Theiron heaved a long-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes.

 

"I... acquired payment for services rendered, that's all." That was a reasonable, wasn't it? Especially since Alfyn's survival instinct was so gods damned dull that he had, thus far, done nothing but drain their resources. The useless idiot kept administering aid without accepting any coin to replace the items used, to say nothing of putting food in their bellies or beds under their travel-weary backsides.

 

"Therion!" Alfyn frowned, shock and indignation rising in his voice. He clenched one fist, stomping a booted foot in frustration. "You stole from a sick old lady!"

 

Therion's hand discretely flicked to his dagger, as it did whenever Therion felt threatened. He didn't know the Apothecary terribly well, and while Alfyn's earnest, too-trusting nature might disarm most, old habits die hard, and Therion was ever suspicious that it might all be some kind of well-practiced act. A long-con. No one could really be that so genuine, that naive, that open all the time, could they? Those were the types you had to keep the closest watch on, you never knew what would happen when their masks finally fell away.

 

"Look, she wasn't sick," Therion grumbled, "and you're the one who keeps giving away our supplies. If you'd just charge someone once in a while we could afford to actually sleep at an inn, or eat a hot meal." He stuck to the most effective evasion tactics: Don't admit to anything, turn the blame back around on the other person, and don't let them have the high ground. It was textbook. Sure, Therion had a small fortune from a lifetime of thieving stashed away, but none of his safe houses were close enough to do him any good tonight, or even over the next few weeks. And he really, really wanted to spend some quality time with a mug of ale.

 

"Those are my supplies," Alfyn pressed, causing Therion to sneer again as the apothecary tromped closer, looming over him yet again. He recognized that Alfyn didn't loom out of any malicious intent, it was just a result of their height differences, but that didn't mean that it didn't piss Therion right the fuck off. "That means I get to decide if I charge for 'em or not." Therion held his silence, but that only seemed to encourage Alfyn to keep talking. "I told you before, Therion, I'm not in this for the money, I do this to hel--"

 

"--to help people. Yeah, yeah, you've said," Therion finished testily. He folded his arms, glaring daggers at the taller man, just to make sure Alfyn knew he wasn't impressed.

 

Alfyn fell silent for a moment, his frown morphing into something akin to a pout, and Therion's eyes lingered on those lips a moment longer than the thief would have liked. Why did the bumpkin have to be so annoyingly earnest? And why did that stupid, grass-laced smile of his get under Therion's skin so easily? At last, the taller man heaved a sigh, shattering the few moments of Aelfric-given silence Therion has been relishing by speaking. "Besides," he announced, turning on his heel to stride purposefully towards a way marker. "She did leave me with a little somethin'..."

 

Therion arched an eyebrow, watching the apothecary crouched and rummaged through a small pile of rocks. He muttered thoughtfully to himself before all but chirping an "Ah hah!" Alfyn spun around, his eyes glowing victoriously as he extended one gloved hand, holding something towards Theiron. He let it hang there, raising his brows and gesturing until Therion gave in, cautiously approaching the unknown object. The thief did a quick assessment as he approached, deciding it wasn't a weapon before reaching out to take what appeared to be an old bit of leather from the apothecary's gloved hand.

 

"You see?" Alfyn beamed as Therion examined a very old, yet well made coin purse, appraising its quality and value as he turned it over in his hands. "I'm sure she didn't have much money, so it didn't seem right to charge her--not when there was something like this is just layin' around nearby, being of no use to anyone."

 

"How… did you know about this?" The thief asked quietly, stealing a quick glance at Alfyn's face from beneath the lock of white hair covering half his face. The pouch should fetch a decent sum, though not enough for a stiff drink, a hot meal, _and_ a warm bed.

 

"Aw, it wasn't anything special. The ol' bitty told me about a time she and her husband came this way years back. Said that he fell from his horse right about there, so I figured there was somethin' worth a look thereabouts."

 

Theiron studied the apothecary with his ridiculous haircut, his even more ridiculous lopsided smile, and his carefree way of speaking and just... being. He radiated compassion, trust, and naïveté. It was no surprise that he rubbed Therion the wrong way, the real question was why Therion continued to go against all his instincts to travel with the man. Alfyn's chuckles slowly faded as silence stretched awkwardly between them, Therion's thoughtful, narrowed gaze never leaving the younger man's earnest face.

 

"So, uh, anyway..." Alfyn finally said, shuffling one boot in the dirt and tangling his fingers into the spiky part his hair. "You should probably give her back... whatever it is you stole."

 

Therion smirked, dropping back into his usual, practiced air of nonchalance, the pouch vanishing beneath his mantle. "Oh, you mean this?" He asked, producing a small bundle of leaves with a flourish.

 

The apothecary's eyes immediately grew wide, his long arms reaching across the distance between them. "This--this is Addlewort!" He exclaimed, snatching them from Therion's fingers. "It's an incredibly useful herb," he went on without prompting, his usual exuberance running away with his mouth. "When you combine it right, it can do all sorts of things, like mending wounds and helping with delirium, and...."

 

He trailed slowly off, green eyes watching the smirk which bloomed across Therion's face. "Oh. I guess that's good to know. Well, the old lady's probably going to be missing it, so I guess I should..." The thief stepped lithely forward, plucking the bundle of herbs from Alfyn's hand, "...hurry it right back to her, then."

 

Therion only made it three steps before Alfyn relented with a small, frustrated little sound. "Ok, so, waitta minute..."

 

\---

 

"I really don't see how it's any different," Therion shrugged, dumping an armful of branches into the circle of fire pit stones Alfyn had arranged. The encounter with the old woman was weeks behind them now, but the eternally chipper apothecary had continued to dole out his services, sapping away at their supplies and their time. Despite Therion's best justifications, arguments, and more than a few threats, the small-town bumpkin kept right on stubbornly refusing to accept payment. Curiously, he seemed to have no qualms with coaxing secrets out of any given passer by, then using that info to dig up and lay claim to hidden items and long-forgotten objects. "Shouldn't you return the stuff you find to the people who lost them? Isn't that the _noble_ thing to do?" Therion couldn't help the hint of sarcasm that slipped into his voice when he said the word 'noble.'

 

"It's not like that," Alfyn insisted, taking a moment to pout at the tangle of twigs occupying his freshly dug fire pit. He blew a lock of straw-colored hair from his forehead, then set to work arranging the wood into a cone, something he insisted would make the fire easier to start and keep it burning longer. Therion didn't think it was worth the effort, and kept saying that they should just dump the sticks in, light the damn fire, and be done with it. Still, each night, without fail, Alfyn would drop to his knees beside the fire fit and spend his time to carefully arranging the branches. "All the stuff I find's long forgotten, I never keep anything anyone's really missing. It's not doin' anyone any good being there, and my taking it's not doin' any harm." He paused his work, looking over his shoulder to shower the thief with wink and one of his infuriatingly easy-going smiles. " I'm doing everyone a favor, don't ya think? Fewer things for weary travelers to trip over, right?"

 

Therion rolled his eyes and snorted. He very much did not agree, but they had been rehashing this argument for weeks, and he was growing weary of it. Besides, he had no desire to discourage Alfyn's chatting with the locals, as he very quickly discovered that there was no better time to ply his trade than when Alfyn was running his mouth. The bumpkin radiated some kind of disarming charm which no one seemed capable of resisting. His easy smile and casual manner captivated everyone, and Therion took a quiet, perverse joy in relieving them of their worldly possessions while they were under the apothecary's spell. It wasn't that he felt jealous whenever they looked at the blonde with those stupid, adoring eyes--no, it had nothing at all to do with jealousy. That was a fact which he kept reminding himself over and over again. It was simply a matter of convenience, taking advantage of an opportunity when it presented itself. Nothing more.

 

Theiron decided that the best way to dismiss tonight's incarnation of the argument would be to simply change the subject, so he gestured towards the woods. "Whatever. I heard a stream over that way, I'm going to wash up before the sun sets and it gets too cold."

 

"Oh!" Alfyn chirped, dusting his hands off and hopping to his feet, the firewood only half arranged. "I'll join you, I could do with some freshening up. Thanks!" He grinned, clapped Therion on the back, and strode off that direction before the thief could utter a single word.

 

Therion hesitated, ducking his chin into his scarf, watching as the lines of Alfyn's broad back vanished into the forest. Therion didn't want to bathe with this man. Life had taught him that anyone would betray him, and he didn't know Alfyn well enough to anticipate when his betrayal might come. What was more, the man's very nature, the honest, open, naive way he presented himself, prickled at Therion, raising his suspicions. He just wasn't comfortable enough to be near him without his weapons close at hand. Even worse was the entirely alien kind of disease Therion felt at the thought of being disarmed and disrobed around the apothecary. He glared at the foliage, willing it to swallow the too-happy apothecary up, that vines would suddenly animate and drag him from Therion's life in a rustle of twigs and leaves.

 

It didn't work. Because of _course_ it didn't work. A moment later, an all too familiar voice carried through the trees. "Hey, you comin'?"

 

Silently cursing Alfyn, the gods, the fool's bangle that set him down this path, the stream, the woods, his aching feet and back, and every other Gods forsaken thing he could think of, Therion snorted out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding followed.

 

By the time Therion stepped into the clearing, Alfyn had already stripped down to his underthings. His satchel had been carefully placed on the rocks near the pooling water; his clothing, on the other hand, had been unceremoniously dumped in a crumpled pile further away. Therion paused at the edge of the trees, sucking in a breath as he took in the expanse of the apothecary's back. It was easy to forget that, beneath the layers and that baggy smock, Alfyn was a stranger to neither hard living nor the axe. As if it wasn't bad enough that the bumpkin stood almost a head taller than Therion, it was now all too obvious that Alfyn had the kinds of toned, thick muscles Therion could never dream of. While the thief was lean and wiry, Alfyn's arms were thick, his shoulders broad and well-defined, and his strong back tapered exquisitely down into a narrow waist.

 

Therion licked his lips, cringing the moment he realized what he was doing. No. This was _not_ going to happen. He was going to rip this... this thing, whatever it was, out like a bad tooth. Steeling himself, the thief stepped fully into the clearing and began undressing. He slowly, meticulously unwound his scarf and shrugged off his mantle, not because he felt the need to treat the garments with any real care, but simply to delay the inevitable. Then he began the process of removing his blades--the sword and dagger he wore on his belt were, of course, not the only weapons he carried on his person. He kept several daggers, knives, and throwing blades hidden away all times, and he took care in laying these and his lock picks out as he disrobed. A loud splash was Therion's only warning before he was assaulted by a small torrent of droplets. Hissing through gritted teeth, he spun to find Alfyn popping up from beneath the water's surface, his smallclothes discarded by the shore.

 

"The water's great!" The apothecary announced brightly, standing in the waist-deep water. He pulled the band out of his hair before dipping under the surface again, running his fingers through the now free locks to help wash the grease and grime out. Theiron heaved a long-suffering sigh and hurried his disrobing, deciding to just get get this over with as quickly as possible. He'd gotten out of his shoes and shirt, and was in the process of unlacing his breeches when Alfyn's voice invaded this thoughts.

 

"Wow..." the blonde drawled, and Therion was suddenly aware of how quiet the clearing was now that Alfyn was no longer splashing about in the water. He tensed, closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, bracing himself before looking towards the apothecary. Alfyn lounged against the rocks of the shore, eyes locked onto Therion's deliberately turned back. "That's... a lot of scars you got there."

 

 _You haven't seen the worst of them,_ Therion thought, pointedly biting his tongue to keep himself from speaking the words aloud. How did this damned apothecary make everyone want to sing like a bird? "Yeah… I guess I've collected a couple," he finally managed with veigned nonchalance, but his voice was more gravely than he would have liked, damn it all. Stealing another glance over his shoulder, he found that Alfyn was still watching him from the water, arms folded on the pool's rocky lip, chin resting atop them. His gaze was intense, yet oddly sad. It was the sadness prickled Therion, putting steel back into his spine. His scars didn't make him some caged animal to be gawked at, and he certainly didn't want Alfyn's pity. _Ok, let's get this over with,_ he thought, pushing his breeches down, striding quickly to the water's edge and slipping in.

 

Words could not describe the discomfort of moving about, naked and weaponless, before those green eyes. Therion's palms itched, yearning to hold a blade, his tingled burned, anticipating a knife in it, his skin tingled where he imagined Alfyn's eyes lingered, and his scars burned with a phantom fire, carving jagged, twisted lines across his torso. He felt marginally better once he was in the water, and grateful that the chill helped do away with the aggravating heaviness forming in his cock, no thanks to Alfyn's unflinching gaze. He tilted his head forward, splashing water into his face, careful not to drench the artfully arranged lock of white hair over his left eye. He stopped short as he felt a presence draw near, heart quickening as he spun into action.

 

Therion fell into a defensive posture, hands rising, ready to block a fist or weapon. Eyes hard, teeth gritted, he cursed himself yet again for letting himself be lured into such a vulnerable situation. It took his frenzied brain another few moments for Alfyn's earnest, concerned expression to register. Therion repressed a flinch as Alfyn's large hand, surprisingly smooth and free from calluses, reached out, fingertips running lightly over the large scar slashed across the span of Theron's right pectoral.

 

Suddenly, everything changed.

 

The air suddenly went out of the woods. Therion swore the temperature around him rose. His pulse raced, and the thick, mangled scar burned under the feather-light touch. He suddenly felt ashamed, self-conscious, and exposed. He lowered his eyes and turned his face away, but he refused to shrink away from the other man's scrutiny. His shoulders squared and his jaw set, hands balling into fists as he struggled against the suddenly crushing silence. Gods be damned, when had Alfyn ever been this quiet for this long? The man had never once stopped talking their entire journey together--he even managed to speak in his infernal sleep! Why did he have to choose _this_ moment to go silent?

 

"Some of these are bad," Alfyn murmured, fingers ghosting over one scar after the next, his voice soft, subdued. Therion finally met his eyes, trying to will his heart not to race as Alfyn's warm hand came to rest against his chest. There was neither mockery nor judgement in Alfyn's face, just sadness; sadness and a hint of concern. "Did you... see a healer about these?"

 

 _It's pity._ The thought crashed down on Therion like thunder. His mind latched onto the idea, and he used as a shield, eagerly wedging it between himself and the apothecary. "No," he snarled, as he turned away away, shrugging Alfyn's hand off his person. The scars were ugly, they were painful, but they were his. They were a _part_ of him, a physical reminder of lessons hard-learned, and in that moment, Therion hated himself for his shame.

 

Just like that, the moment shattered. Therion could breathe again, and Alfyn sheepishly withdrew his hand.

 

"We can't all born with silver spoons in our mouths, you know." Therion growled, splashing water into one armpit. "Not everyone gets to grow up in a idyllic backwoods town filled with do-gooder apothecaries who don't charge an arm and a leg for their services. Some of us have to settle for finding a somewhat clean corner, pouring alcohol into a wound, and hoping for the best."

 

"Heh, guess you've got me there," Alfyn shrugged. He managed a chuckle, but it felt forced.

 

Silence settled between them again, interrupted only by sloshing water as they both set to work washing the sweat, dust, and dirt of many hard days of travel from their bodies. Therion would have been grateful for the quiet, had his insides not been a swirling mass of conflict. He dared to steal the occasional glance at Alfyn, and, irritatingly, kept getting caught. Was Alfyn just… staring at him while they washed? Why? The questions gnawed at Therion's insides, and he once again cursed the phantom molten heat which spread through his scars.

 

"You're pretty impressive, you know." Therion nearly jumped when Alfyn suddenly broke the silence. "Some of those look like they were pretty deep, they should've been stitched. I was gonna be mad at the healer who did such bad work, but hey, if it's a home job..." he shrugged splaying his fingers through the patch of blonde hair at his chest as he winked. "Not too bad a job, I guess. I'm surprised they don't hurt, though."

 

Therion didn't reply.

 

"Now that I think about it…" Alfyn prattled on in a playful tone. "Aching scar tissue could help explain why you're so grumpy all the time. Shucks, I should've thought of that sooner, eh?"

 

"They don't hurt," Therion snapped, eager to cut Alfyn's laughter short. It was a bold-faced lie; many of his scars still ached on the best of days; the worst of them pulled tight when he moved, threatening to restrict his movements. "And I don't remember asking for your opinion. Or your pity."

 

"Woah, hey now," Alfyn exclaimed, brow scrunching up as he raised both hands, trying to deflect Therion's hostility. "It's not pity, it's... shucks, it's not even anything professional, really. Just friendly concern, that's all." He paused, worrying his lower lip as he studied Therion's face. The thief continued to stare at the water, eyes hard.

 

"...I could help if they do, you know. Hurt, I mean." Alfyn took a chance, wading a little closer. "I could whip up an ointment. It wouldn't be any trouble, really. You'd just rub it in once a day, it'll soften the scar tissue a little. Make it easier to--"

 

Alfyn cut short as Therion suddenly spun in the water, rising to his full height--which really wasn't terribly impressive--glaring up at the apothecary. "I don't need you to fix me, Alfyn. They don't hurt, they don't need your concoctions, and you can stop staring at them any time now." He held one hand up to his chest, covering the largest scar, which cleaved a gnarled path across his chest. The Fool's Bangle, that humiliating reminder of his greatest misstep, the only article of clothing he couldn't remove, clattered with the movement, drawing both of their eyes. Therion felt heat rising in his cheeks and ears, his mouth carved into a hard line as he turned his eyes away.

 

Alfyn drew in a deep breath, holding it a beat before reaching out to rest a hand on Therion's shoulder. "Hey, now, there's no reason to be like that. I didn't say anythin' like that did I?" He stooped slightly as he spoke, bringing his face closer to Theron's level, trying to catch and hold his eyes.

 

There was a surprising gentleness in his tone, and Therion's skin burned like fire beneath Alfyn's touch, and that heat heat coursed down his chest, sent his blood pounding, searing its way down to his rapidly filling cock. One corner of Therion's mouth twisted suddenly into a smirk. This he could deal with. This something familiar, something Therion had experience with. He was no stranger to lust, hot and demanding, and he knew exactly how to handle this kind of yearning. He acted quickly, throwing one arm around Alfyn's neck--Gods damn the man for being so infuriating tall-- as he pulled the apothecary's mouth to his own. His kiss was hard, demanding, and unyielding, one hand shooting out to grip Alfyn's hip, holding their bodies together.

 

Alfyn chuckled into his lips.

 

Therion froze, rage and humiliation warring inside him as Alfyn's his shoulders bounced with laughter, but he kissed back, his lips warm and inviting. Therion's confusion and wounded pride gave way rather quickly to the hunger building inside him at just about the same time that the apothecary turned into a freaking octopus. His strong arms closed tight around Therion's lean frame as his hands, one rough, one smooth, suddenly moved everywhere, palms and thick fingers eagerly exploring Therion's bare skin.

 

"Well, hey, there," came his breathy mutters between kisses. Therion wasted little time before bullying Alfyn back against the bank, and the taller man complied without argument, soft hums and happy sounds escaping his chest. The stubble on his jaw scratched at Therion's face as their lips and tongues worked, explored, tasted. "Here's a surprise," Alfyn murmured, soft and breathy when Therion finally pull away, panting for air. He raised one hand to cup the thief's cheek, fingers slipping under the damp mass of hair that hid half of Therion's face.

 

He was smiling, all lazy, bedroom eyes as his blonde hair hung limply, dripping water down his cheek. One arm wrapped around Therion's torso, holding him close as he studied that tanned, flushed face. He just kept... looking at him, staring into Therion's uncovered eye. It unnerving. Therion felt exposed, the apothecary's loose grip trapped him in a way he couldn't really explain. This was all too intimate, too gentle, and Therion bristled under the attention. He was after a quick fuck to thin the blood, and the apothecary's longing eyes and lingering kisses weren't getting him off any faster. He frowned, swatted Alfyn's hand away from his face and gave the bigger man a series of quick shoves, trying to turn him around. Desire pounded in Therion's ears; he knew how he wanted to do this, and common sense told him that Alfyn would not easily yield the position. He was at a size disadvantage, there was no way he'd win out an extended wrestling match, so he had to be quick, he had to be in control, he had to take what he wanted before--

 

Alfyn chuckled again, the sound causing Therion's face to flush and his cock to wilt. Dread rose in his chest as the apothecary again wrapped Therion in his arms, pulling the smaller man to his chest. He twitched in the embrace, too flustered by that infernal laughter and too confused by the contact--a gentle embrace which he somehow couldn't seem to slip from--to react. Alfyn's lips pressed to the side of Therion's head, wet fingers tangling in his white, mostly dry hair.

 

"Hey now, take it easy," he murmured soothingly, his voice rumbling low in his chest, where Thereon found his ear pressed. He pointedly did _not_ relax, but he did pause. Therion's damned, demanding cock was making it frustratingly difficult to think clearly. Alfyn's hand slid to the back of Therion's neck, strong fingers massaging the tightly corded muscles there. "You don't gotta be like that," he chastised softly. "I'm not gonna say no, but if we're doin' this, we're gonna do it right, and you've gotta go easy on me."

 

He pulled back just enough to look down into Therion's face, smiling that infuriating lopsided grin again. "I'm more delicate than I look, y'know. At least parts of me are," he added with a wink.

 

Therion snorted, studying him through narrowed eyes. One hand pressed to the center of the bigger man's chest, the pads of his fingers resting against coarse hair. What was Alfyn's game? Was this a trap? A trick? How could he be so casual about putting himself in this position? Clearly, the apothecary had done this before, and if the hard length pressed firmly against Therion's abdomen was any indication, Therion's scars weren't a total turn off. Good gods, now that he thought about it, how big was that thing, anyway? Therion decided it was best not to check; he was already insecure about Alfyn being both taller and broader than himself, Therion didn't need any other reason to be jealous.

 

After a few moments of scrutiny, Alfyn heaved a sigh, and even had the nerve to roll his eyes. "Look, I just--you've done this before, right?"

 

That, Therion decided, had to be an insult. His jerked his hands away, scowling up at the taller man. "Of course I have!" He snapped eyes going hard.

 

Alfyn winced, immediately regretting his misstep. "I mean, 'couse you have. I just--shucks. I mean... have you done this with... a guy before?"

 

Neither Therion's face nor his posture changed, but for just a moment, his eyes flicked down and to the side. Alfyn chuckled yet again, and Therion seriously considered delivering his fist into that scruffy face. He balled his hands into fists, his shoulders achingly tense. Alfyn, still relaxed and smiling, slid a hand down Therion's arm, his wide, warm palm moving slowly until he reached Therion's hand, coaxing his fist open so he could lace their fingers together.

 

"Thieves are known for havin' nimble fingers, right?" Alfyn asked, watching Therion's face closely. There was no mockery in his tone, if anything it was overly gentle as he leaned in close. Alfyn raised their clasped hands, pressing his lips to Therion's knuckles. "Consider me a lock to be artfully picked, not a latch to be pried open, ok?" He smiled, trying to charm some of the stormy anger out of Therion's expression. "Here--"

 

Alfyn started to move away, causing Therion to press hard against that larger body, one hand shooting to the side to block his path. This only managed to draw another infuriating laugh from the apothecary. "Hey now, I already told you, I'm not goin' anywhere! Just let me get somethin' out of my satchel."

 

Therion relented, shame causing him to flush deep red from his ears to his chest. What in the names of all the gods was wrong with him? Had it really been so long that he was this jumpy, this needy? He was, rather quickly, distracted from those thoughts when Alfyn hauled himself halfway out of the water, stretching his long form out so he could rummage one-handed through his bag. Beads of water ran down his back, pooling in the hollows of his muscles, trickling down his fair skin before sliding gracefully down his perfectly round, thickly muscled ass. Therion's palms burned with the desire to touch, and he found himself staring once again. He averted his gaze when Alfyn returned to the water with a slosh, unwilling to be caught staring.

 

"Here," Alfyn smiled, tossing Therion a small vial. Therion caught, giving the bottle a careful look, before turning his skeptical expression to the taller man.

 

"What's this?"

 

"Ointment," Alfyn beamed proudly, settling back against the edge of the pool, arms stretched wide across the rocks behind him.

 

Therion raised an eyebrow. "What do you want me to... do with it?"

 

"It's slick," Alfyn explained patiently, hand dipping below the water, stroking himself as he worried his lower lip. "You know... lube. Lucky for us, I went out of my way to make some that'll won't just dissolve away in the water." He kicked out one leg, hooking his heel behind Therion's knee, using it to guide him closer. His voice dropped, turning soft and conspiratorial as he leaned closer to Theron's ear. "It's been a minute, and you, uh... bring a lot to the table," he added, reaching between them to palm Theron's shaft, very nearly dragging a moan out of the perpetually grumpy thief. "So, like I said... you're gonna have to go easy on me. One finger to start, then build up from there," he instructed, leaning in to steal another kiss.

 

"Is this gonna make my dick burn?" Therion snapped, ducking away from the kiss and glaring at the vial.

 

"Hah!" Alfyn burst into a bright laugh, reaching up to muss Theron's hair with a dripping hand. "If it burns you, it's gonna burn me, too. Now get to work, I promise I'm worth it," he rumbled lowly.

 

Cursing the way he flushed, Therion did as instructed. Slicked fingers went to work, probing rather clumsily until he found that small, hot opening. He kept his eyes down and away, unwilling to hold Alfyn's warm, unflenching gaze as he fumbled about in unfamiliar territory. "That's it, easy now..." As usual, Alfyn never seemed to shut up. He carried on, offering guidance and murmured words of encouragement as Therion worked one finger in, then a second, their bodies pressed closely together to stave off the chill of the water. One big hand roamed Theron's body, Alfyn kept the other on the bank to hold himself steady in the water. His lips kept finding his way into Therion's hair, dusting his head with kisses and soft, whispered nothings.

 

Therion hated how much of an effect the foreplay and sweet talk were having on him. He had been hard and hungry before he started finger fucking the apothecary, but this... this was making his prick pulse and knees unsteady with want. This wasn't what he was used to. Quick trysts in the back of a tavern and by-the-hour tumbles with whores hadn't prepared him for this. His cock was throbbing, achingly hot in the chill water, and the prolonged contact was setting his skin ablaze. Those touches, gentle and wanting, made his hands unsteady. He watched Alfyn's face change, twisting from familiar expressions of warmth to one tight with need. The longer Therion worked, the thicker and huskier the apothecary's voice grew, his long legs tangled around Therion's thighs and holding him close. At last, the thief's name dripped heavily from Alfyn's tongue. He slipped both his arms slipping around Therion's body, leaning in to press their mouths together once again.

 

Therion dodged the kiss and pulled back, shoving both hands against Alfyn's chest. "Turn around." The order was soft but sharp. Alfyn blinked slowly as his lust-addled mind tried to work its way around what just happened.

 

"H--hey, now..." he drawled lazily, one hand trying to find Therion's cheek again. "I won't--"

 

"We can do it that way, or we can go back to camp right now," Therion snapped again, swatting Alfyn's hand away. He watched the apothecary's brow crinkle, and pointedly ignored the sudden pang in his chest as he watched sadness creep slowly across his expressive features. Alfyn studied him, searching his eyes, his face, for… something. Therion had no idea what that something was, but he was determined not to give it to him. Every inch of Therion ached with desire, it thrummed in his temples, coursed his veins, pounded with his heartbeat, and throbbed in his cock, but as much he lusted for the man laid out before him, he _needed_ control. He didn't trust this man, and he didn't know what might be stashed within his reach on the river bank. He didn't want to leave his back exposed to those big hands, and, perhaps most importantly, he didn't trust himself enough not to fall, undone, into his broad chest and enveloping arms.

 

"All right," Alfyn breathed after a long moment. He did lean in to steal one more kiss before moving, his lips lingering longer than Therion found comfortable. "I wouldn't've tried anything, just for the record," he added before turning, bracing both palms against the rocky bank. He glanced back, peering over his shoulder from beneath heavily lidded eyes, tongue flicking over his lips and... did he just arch his back? Was he... was he flexing?! In that moment, he was, quite possibly, the hottest thing Therion had ever laid eyes on; sprawled out, wanting, and waiting, and the infernal man seemed to know it.

 

It was enough to rip a small, unwilling moan from Therion's throat, and the thief swore he caught a glimpse of a satisfied smirk on the apothecary's lips. He moved in quickly, one hand closing possessively around Alfyn's hip as the other slid experimentally up the column of his back. Alfyn hummed, the sound reverberating into Therion's palm. "C'mon, then," he drawled, voice thick and lazy. "Don't keep me waitin'."

 

Therion hissed softly, taking himself in hand and rushing to line himself up, his entire body hot and feverish with want.

 

"Woah!" The apothecary suddenly shouted, laughing as he pulled away. Therion's jaw clenched, his fingertips gripping Alfyn's hip with a bruising force. "Lube!" the taller man chided, snatching the vial off the rocks where Therion had tossed it. "It's not optional," he chuckled, prying Therion's hand off his hip and closing his fingers around the bottle.

 

 _Yeah, that didn't ruin the moment or anything_ , Therion thought darkly, glaring at that dumb, smiling face as he dumped more ointment into his hand and slicked himself up with quick, eager movements. "There. Happy?" He snapped, pointedly throwing the container back to shore.

 

Alfyn just smiled, winking as he settled against the bank again, worrying his lower lip and arching his back. "Like I said... don't keep me waitin'."

 

 _Demanding twit,_ Therion thought darkly, _I don't have time for your games._ But even his mental quips didn't seem have much bite to them. Moving in again, Therion pressed the head of his cock against that hot ring of muscle as his hand settled back onto Alfyn's hip. Anticipation thrummed through him, pounding in time with his pulse as Alfyn's body resisted against the blunt, thick head of Therion's cock. The apothecary inhaled sharply as his body finally relented, tissues stretching, giving, as the thief finally slipped inside. Therion uttered a muffled groan as warm, slick pressure slowly swallowed him. He reached one arm around Alfyn's torso, fingers splaying against the coarse hair on his chest, giving the Alfyn precious little time to adjust before his hips started moving, thrusts swift but small, working himself deeper.

 

Alfyn, vocal as ever, already sounded wrecked. His face flushed, and he writhed in pleasure-pain as Therion , trying to weather the merciless pace. "I said go easy!" he tried to protest, but that was lost in the way he moaned the words, thick and dripping with pleasure. He pounded one fist lightly against the shore, curling his fingers against the rocks, and resisted the urge to tell him to stop, to slow down, by burying his face in the crook of his arm. "Shit! It burns!" He moaned, even as he pressed back to meet Therion's thrust. One hand found where Theron clung to his chest, his wide palm closing over Therion's, holding tightly as he gulped in ragged breaths. Alfyn quickly lost the ability to form actual words, but his ragged, keening sounds were enough to drive Therion wild. His head spun as he rutted hungrily with that large, hot body, shuttering hard when he, at last, bottomed out, burying himself to the hilt. Only then did he pause, drinking in Alfyn's tight heat.

 

"Therion..."  Alfyn whispered the name as the thief leaned forward, experimentally pressing his lips to center of Alfyn's back. Stealing his hand free of the apothecary's grip, Therion's dexterous fingers began to roam the expanse of Alfyn's body, touching, teasing, exploring. Still braced with one hand, the apothecary reached blindly back, pawing at Therion as best he could while bent over, as Therion's nimble hands caressed, gripped, and pinched, drawing heated sounds, short gasps, and murmured nothings from the blonde.

 

Tanned hands wandered, again and again, to Alfyn's chest, and Therion's lust-riddled mind was surprised time and time again to find planes of firm muscle and coarse body hair, rather than the soft, smooth swell of a woman's breast. It did nothing to stunt his desire, and his fingers continued to touch and tease, encouraged by the keening sound Alfyn made each time Therion teased his nipples. Therion was no stranger to sex, but this was so different, so alien to all his previous experiences. The many scent, the deep rumbles of pleasure, wide planes and firmness of the body beneath him, they all conspire to heighten every sensation and stretch out each moment.

 

Therion bent one knee, hooking it under Alfyn's thigh, pulling the man off balance in the water and spreading his legs. Alfyn kept one hand on the bank as he was hauled into the precarious position, tossing his head back as his body weight pressed Therion deeper. He reaching back to seize hold of Therion's right thigh, holding on for dear life as his body rocked in the water. The long, low sound which rumbled through his chest further encouraged the thief, who pressed more kisses to Alfyn's back before drawing his lips back, breaking into a feral smile before digging his teeth into the juncture where Alfyn's neck and shoulder met.

 

Alfyn yelped, clenching around Therion's cock before letting out a long, wanting sound. _Oh,_ Therion thought with a dark satisfaction, _so he likes it rough, does he?_ One hand shot up, knotting in Alfyn's wet hair as he carefully yanked his head back. "You are the most annoying person I have ever met in my entire life," he growled into his ear, scraping his teeth across the tender skin of Alfyn's neck. Therion was frustrated to find that there was no real venom behind his words. Alfyn only chuckled, and Therion found himself watching closely, drinking in the way the man's Adam's apple bobbed whenever he fought to swallow, how his teeth worried his kiss-swollen lower lip, and how water droplets clung to the blonde stubble around his jaw as he weathered Therion's rough thrusts.

 

Hissing again, Therion allowed himself one more nip at the apothecary's shoulder, then released his hair and pushed Alfyn forward. He was too close to maintain the brutal pace; he needed to reposition, or this was going to be an embarrassingly short affair. The apothecary complied, slouching with both elbows against the rocks, and suddenly found his gods damned voice again. He pressed back into Therion, muttering all kinds of encouragement and dirty little nothings between heaved breaths. Gripping Alfyn's sides, Therion pulled back, almost all the way out, before driving himself fully in, drawing another delightful cry from the apothecary. Therion leaned forward, taking hold of the taller man's shoulders he drove himself in again and again, moaning lowly with each painfully, deliciously slow thrust. Sweat and water intermingled as their bodies worked, muscles straining, flesh colliding, as they struggled together towards competition. Time faded from Therion's reality, his world narrowing to nothing more than the sounds of hungry grunts, panting breaths, and sloshing water.

 

Therion's mind snapped back to reality when Alfyn's hand sized his own, guiding it to his neglected cock. "Close," the apothecary muttered, voice hitching in time with with each deep thrust. "Therion... Therion I'm so close. Please..." he continued, wrapping Therion's hand around his disturbingly thick shaft. Alfyn kept his hand there, as if afraid hat Therion would leave him wanting. He thrust shamelessly into the thief's fist, messy and desperate, wanton and desperate in his need. It was the most debauched, delicious thing Therion had ever experienced.

 

Alfyn was so warm, so tight, so hungry for it. And he was so _willing,_ complying with every move Therion made, arching his body into Therion's wandering hands, pressing back to meet each thrust, his broad, strong body rumbling with low, lusty sounds. Therion wanted it to last forever. To make him come begging for this every day. He wanted to break this man, Therion suddenly realized. To give him more pleasure than he could handle, to ruin him for anyone else who might look at him with their stupid, adoring eyes. A tiny corner of Therion's mind screamed in terror at such a thought, but his body was acting of its own accord, and it was going to take its pleasure.

 

Bracing himself, one hand holding tightly to Alfyn's shoulder, Therion increased his pace again, slamming into him furiously, twisting his hips and hissing his pleasure, but this turned out to be his undoing. Therion was so focused on fucking Alfyn stupid that his own climax caught him off guard. His hips bucked of their own accord, a short cry erupting from his throat as lightning coursed through his body and the edges of his vision went dark. He shuddered but kept thrusting, stubbornly fucking the apothecary through his climax. Alfyn moaned, bucking frantically into Therion's hand, coming moments later, sputtering a string of incoherent curses and adoring praises. His body spasmed around Therion, milking his already sensitive cock, ripping a long, shuddering moan from Therion's core.

 

Breathless and spent, they slumped together against the riverbank, Therion puffing into Alfyn's broad back. They lingered for a long, quiet while, humming, muttering, panting, floating mindlessly as waves of pleasure washed over their exhausted bodies, savoring their shared warmth. Alfyn finally moved, lacing their fingers together beneath the water. The simple, innocuous act was enough to snap Therion back to himself, and the thief quickly pulled away, tugging his hand free. Carefully, he slid himself out before his overstimulated cock could start complaining too much. The unhappy Alfyn rumbled meant that he had done so either too soon or not as gently as he would have liked. Therion huffed, decided he didn't care, and started to move away.

 

The octopus returned without warning, and strong arms once again tangled around Therion, pulling him back against Alfyn's warm and waiting chest. The blonde was still rumbling happily and panting softly, his face flushed from the heights of exertion and pleasure. Therion tensed, but if Alfyn noticed he paid it no mind, pressing his lips to Therion's hair and neck again and again. "Mmmm," he muttered happily, his scruffy chin scratching Therion's cheek as he ducked down to let his mouth explore up Theron's jaw and to his ear. "That was amazin'," he drawled lazily, hands wandering Therion's chest and torso, fingers tracing the lines of his scars. "Can't say I was really expectin' it, but, heh... lucky surprise, I guess. No complaints here," he purred lowly.

 

Therion quietly suffered his affections, eyes darting about, as if looking for an escape. _I'm not your teddy bear,_ he thought darkly, and while he didn't pull away, he did nothing to return the caresses or whispered nothings. Again, if Alfyn noticed Therion's discomfort through his blissed out haze, there was no indication. Theron's mind, on the other hand, had already moved past the afterglow, and panic was starting to set in.

 

What had he just done? He had to travel with this man, how was he supposed to look him in the eyes after this? Even worse was the fact that his cock, treacherous glutton that it was, was already trying growing thick again, quietly yearning for more. Therion was just starting to stomp down on the unhelpful and utterly ridiculous daydreams of Alfyn's lips wrapped around his cock up when he realized just what Alfyn was muttering in his post-coital ramblings.

 

"Told you it'd be worth the prep work. Heh, though, even with all that, I'm still gonna have a limp tomorrow. Not to mention bruises on my shoulder! Next time warn a fella that you're a biter, eh? Still, I can't--"

 

"--Next time?!" Therion growled, tensing solid within the circle of Alfyn's arms. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This had gone way off the path. This was a one-time, quick-and-dirty, get-it-out-of-the-system kind of thing. The cuddling, the sweet, whispered words, and the way his cock pulsed with desire at the thought of a 'next time'-- not a single thing about that was a part of the plan. Time to abort, and quickly, before things got entirely out of hand.

 

Therion snorted as he twisted free, jerking his head away from the nose buried in his hair. He glared up at the taller man, meeting his eyes with a hard expression. "There isn't going to be a next time," he snapped, stalking towards the edge of the pond, combing his messy, mostly wet hair back into place over the side of his face.

 

"Hey, now," Alfyn frowned, reaching after the thief, only to have his hand swatted away. "What's all this about? Shucks, Therion, what'd I do?" He sounded hurt, and it took real effort for Therion to ignore the way that dejected tone caused a low ache to bloom in his chest.

 

"You didn't do anything," he said sharply, hauling himself out of the water and making--quickly--for his clothing. He paused, cutting Alfyn off before he could say anything more. _"We_ didn't do anything. As far as I'm concerned, this didn't happen." He paused, glaring back at the other. "Understand?" Alfyn stood, mouth hanging open as he stared back, dumbfounded. The thief snorted again, stepping quickly into his breeches, clutching his scarf in his teeth to keep it off the ground.

 

"Hey now, wait a minute--" Alfyn began, anger rising in his voice. He started wading towards the shore, running a hand through his wet hair, but Therion cut him off again.

 

"I've got things to do," Therion growled around the scarf in his teeth, sliding the last of his hidden blades into its place in his boot. Gathering up his remaining clothing and weapons, he strode swiftly and wordlessly away. He escaped the clearing and into the relative safety of the woods, putting distance between himself and the apothecary before stealing one last glance over his shoulder.

 

Alfyn stood in the water, mouth still hanging open, watching as the thief disappeared among the trees and stretching shadows. Confusion and hurt were etched into every inch of his body, from his expression to his posture. Therion willed steel into his spine, ignoring the now familiar, hollow ache in his gut as he kept moving. He slipped away, a thief in the falling night, fleeing from those whose company he most enjoyed. Just as he always did. _It's better this way,_ he reminded himself _. I work alone._

 

 _He'll be gone come morning_ , Therion thought as he pulled his shirt on, frowning at the way the cloth stuck to his still-wet skin. He deliberately ignored how bitter his thoughts sounded, even to his own mind.

 

_Everyone will betray you, eventually. It's just a matter of when._

 


	2. Come Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened last night was a mistake, and Therion has made that as clear as he humanly can. So how can Alfyn still be smiling?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that first chapter was a rough one, I know. Have some after care. This is short, about as fluffy as my writing will ever get, and gets these two back on the road again!

Night had long since fallen when Therion slipped back to camp. Alfyn was snoring softly in his bedroll, the fire burned itself down to embers. Therion worked quickly and quietly, unrolling his own bedroll and slipping out of his boots. He snorted in amusement when Alfyn muttered to himself in his sleep. I'm going to miss that. The thought both surprised and terrified Therion. There really was something about the easy-going apothecary; he grew on you. _Like a fungus,_ Therion reminded himself, settling in to nab a couple hours of sleep before daylight. He had somewhere to be--or rather, to not be--come dawn.

 

Several hours later, Theron's eyes cracked open. Morning was soon to break, and the treetops loomed against the slowly blighting sky like dark, skeletal fingers, waiting to crash down upon them. Therion had a number of useful skills, but he was especially grateful for his uncanny control over his sleep. He had always been able to fall asleep anywhere, and he seemed to be able decide whenever he wanted to wake, regardless of that time was before dawn or well into the afternoon. It was a convenience he had taken for granted until he learned this wasnt' something that most people could control.

 

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Therion gathered the most useful and most valuable of his possessions. He had time, because Alfyn was many things, but an early riser was not one of them. The bumpkin was happiest when he had the luxury of sleeping away half the day, something he managed to do even when he was sleeping on the hard ground. Possessions acquired, Theron stepped over his bedroll, which he deliberately left laid out to make sure Alfyn knew he'd returned during the night, the thief slipped away into the morning haze, in search of an apple tree which he could kill some time beneath.

 

It was almost midday when Therion returned to camp, hoping that Alfyn had the courtesy to leave Therion's bedroll behind. Were he being entirely honest, Therion wouldn't have blamed him in the least if the apothecary had taken it out of revenge. Or cut it to ribbons. Or shat in it. _Tsh,_ Therion hissed, wrinkling his nose at the very thought. Just because he probably deserved it didn't mean he was overly fond of the idea.

 

Drawing an apple from beneath his mantle, Therion tossed it in the air and caught it as he rounded the corner to the camp, his thoughts turning deliberately forward. He had a dragonstone to find, a bangle to rid himself of, and there was a town only half a day's travel away. He could he could rob the people blind blind and booking a room at the inn to catch up on some well-deserved rest. That was something he was very much looking forward to; the aches in his back told Therion that either either his bedroll was getting thin or he was simply getting older. _Time to get a new bedroll,_ he thought, pushing past a bit of scrub brush when--

 

Fire.

 

He heard the soft crackling, smelled the smoke, and… and a hint of something else. Something which made his stomach rumble softly. Therion had been too lost in his own thoughts during his approach, and that distraction left him exposed and staring at his campsite, where a cone-shaped bundle of logs burned in the pit. He reached for his dagger, eyes searching the area. His discarded bedroll was still there, and the area looked just as it had last night. Could this be a trap? That didn't make sense, who would light a fire in someone else's camp and _then_ wait in ambush?

 

Therion inhaled sharply as the sound of tromping boots and snapping twigs announced the approach of another. He shrank back against the truck of a thick tree, dagger held at ready, eyes narrowed. His heart pounded in his ears, breath held as he waited for the intruder to reveal himself. Therion sprang into action the moment a figure entered the clearing, landing on the balls of his feet, knees bent, brandishing his dagger with a flourish.

 

"Oh, you're back. Finally."

 

Therion nearly swallowed his tongue as Afyn marched right past him, dropping a freshly cut pile of logs beside the fire. He hardly spared the thief a glance.

 

"I wondered where you'd run off to. Phew," the blonde puffed, and spun his axe once before tucking it into the sheath at the small of his back beneath his smock. "It got warm today. I caught some fish, seasoned 'em up with some herbs and Essence of Pomegranate I found. Should give us a little boost. Figured we could use it, given the late start we're gettin'."

 

Therion continued to stand, rooted to the spot with a wide eyed, dumb expression, but he did, at least slowly, lower his dagger. His mind spun in confusion, and his jaw would have been hanging wide open, had he not schooled himself so well in hiding his emotions. What the _hell_ was Alfyn still doing here? He should've been long gone. Was he really so dense as to not get the hint?

 

"Hey, Therion?" Alfyn called, quirking up a brow as he leaned forward, waving one big hand in front of the thief's face with a whistle. "You ok there? You seem kinna out of it. What'd you get up to today? Need a hit of Curious Balm? I've got some in my satchel."

 

"I'm… fine," Therion spoke slowly. He studied the apothecary as the taller man urged him to sit by the fire, accepting the skewered fish he was offered.

 

Alfyn wasted no time digging into his fish, humming at the crispy skin and most, crumbly white flesh beneath. Therion scrutinized his own meal as apothecary started talking again, going on about the next town, his day fishing and fetching firewood, and, for some damn reason, even went into detail about a strange dream he had. Therion took the opportunity to carefully scrutinize the fish he'd just been given, sniffing it and touching the tip of his tongue to the herb coating, testing for poisons or sleep powders. Only then did he start to eat, far more slowly than the babbling bumpkin.

 

"So yeah, fish were bitin' pretty good," Alfyn carried on, as if Therion cared. "I caught  'em just downstream from the pond we were swimmin' in last night, so I hope they're not too salty." He paused, winking as Therion grew very still, flushing suddenly. After several long moments, Alfyn heaved a heavy sigh. "So… we're not gonna talk about it?" He questioned, voice growing soft.

 

 _Shit,_ Therion thought, attempting to buy himself a little time by taking another bite of his fish.

 

"Look, Therion," Alfyn murmured as the thief chewed. He moved closer, ignoring how the thief leaned just the tiniest bit in the opposite direction. "You're not… comfortable with what happened, I get it, but don't forget _you're_ the one that came on to _me_."

 

Therion snorted. _He_ started it? Bullshit, Alfyn had been… He was the one who... He'd clearly been trying… It was obvious that he… He'd all but…

 

Alfyn cut his racing thoughts short by resting a hand on Therion's leg, catching the thief's stormy gaze. "Look… you've got issues. I get it. No one collects the kinna scars you have without takin' on a little emotional damage, too. But I… I just…"

 

Therion continued to hold his tongue, watching the apothecary with narrowed eyes as the younger man struggled for words.

 

"What you did--Therion--that was just cruel!" He finally exploded, brow knitting up as he opened his big hands, as if trying to show Therion a pain he was holding in his palms. "Look, we're friends, and I try to be understandin', but you can't… you can't treat people that way." He paused, looking sadly into Therion's eyes, voice growing soft. "...you can't treat _me_ that way."

 

Therion had the decency to look thoroughly chastised as he swallowed hard around the lump of guilt and shame which suddenly lodged in his throat. He wanted to snort, to tisk at the idea, to roll his eyes and shrug it all away, just like he always did, but he coudln't. He somehow found himself trapped within those sad green eyes, and nonchalance just wouldn't come.

 

"...sorry," he finally muttered, voice a low, hardly audible rumble as he averted his gaze. He slouched where he sat, shrugging his shoulders and burying his nose in his scarf. That familiar, hollow ache returned to his chest, threatening to crush him from the inside, making it difficult to breathe. The skewered fish hung limply from his long fingers, appetite long forgotten, as Therion pointedly refused to look at Alfyn, who continued to study him with wounded eyes.

 

"...All right, then," the apothecary finally sighed, clapping a big hand across Theron's lean back. "Apology accepted."

 

Therion blinked, sitting in stunned confusion for a moment before whipping his head around, his expression bewildered. Alfyn was already rising to his feet, though he did so with a slight wince, Therion noted. Dusting his hands, the apothecary moved about with a careful step, collecting his supplies, which he'd left unceremoniously strewn about the camp.

 

"We should get goin', I'm gonna need a mug of ale tonight, and that town's not gonna walk itself to us!" He chuckled brightly, throwing Therion a wink.

 

Therion continued to gape. Apology accepted? Just like that? Alfyn was really just going to forgive, forget, and continue their journey together? Something cold and hard inside Therion's core melted, just a little. In the same moment, another part turned to steel. This _had_ to be a trick. There had to be an end game. No one was actually that good, that forgiving of a person… were they?

 

"Well, c'mon," Alfyn chirped, pulling his satchel over one shoulder. "Why'm I the one nagging us to get movin', anyway? You're not the one with the limp!" He laughed at his own joke as Therion quietly, meticulously, collected his bedroll and put out the campfire. No sooner was he ready to depart then a big hand clapped across his back again.

 

"To the tavern!" Alfyn proclaimed with a grin and a wink. "And this time, the first round's on you."


	3. Empathy

[This is a placeholder. My first attempt at this chapter was bad, and it is being updated. There will soon be snarky conversations occupying this space, and they will most likely involve Primrose.]


	4. Empathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfyn hadn't been the same since the battle at Goldshore, even though they'd been through worse scrapes. As much as Therion doesn't mind drinking alone, he finds himself compelled to check on the apothecary, and quickly finds himself in over his head with an emotional Alfyn. Ophelia would be much better suited to dealing with this. ...or maybe not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This contains spoilers for Alfyn's Chapter 2. It's also 6,300 words of pure smut, so you've been warned/I'm sorry/you're welcome?  
> As always, Therion is a grumpy jerk.

Goldshore was an aptly named town, in Therion's humble opinion. Plenty of noble folk wandered around with more Leaves and trinkets than they knew what to do with. As a direct result, Therion was ready to leave town tomorrow a stone or so heavier than when he wandered in, his pockets filled to the brim with pilfered goods. He was quite satisfied, especially after seeing how much those upper-crust types were ready to spend on medicine. Medicine Alfyn was more than happy to whip up for free, he might add. The man was all heart and no common sense, if you asked Thereion. Not that anyone ever did ask Therion, but he offered the opinion at every occasion, anyway. Speaking of, where was the bumpkin?

 

It was their last night in Goldshore, and the crew was meeting up in the tavern, to have one last drink and plan their route for tomorrow's departure. Therion had been in his cups for the last hour or so, happy to be out of the public eye incase anyone actually noticed their pilfered belongings. Alfyn was usually waiting for him when he sauntered into tavern, the apothecary did love his mead.

 

Everyone else had already found their way here; Tressa was aggressively bartering with a patron, while Primrose watched with a patient smirk, no doubt planning on charming her way into possession of whatever item Tressa was after, should negotiations fail. Cyrus, H'anaat, and Ophelia were gathered around a table, pouring over a map. H'anaat was sitting back and sipping her mead, Lynde curled up and napping at her feet, as Cyrus and Ophelia debated something; whether that was where to go next, the best route, or something as simple as the history of the area, Therion could, blessedly, not tell, as he had managed to find a spot in the tavern where Cyrus' voice didn't carry.

 

Olberic had settled at the bar beside Therion, leaning one elbow on the counter as he took long, slow pulls from his mug. He shot Therion a questioning look, as hterion looked this way and that, an uneasy frown settling across his mouth.

 

"I don't see Alfyn," Therion grumbled, answering the unspoken question.

 

"Ah," the warrior said with a nod, as if that explained everything. Therion's eyes narrowed, something about that reaction prickling at him. Olberic, infuriatingly, seemed to not notice.

 

 _What's that supposed to mean? What do you know? What do you_ think _you know? Fuck off!_

 

The thoughts raged across Therion's consciousness as he glared impatiently at the knight, waiting for him to say something, to explain. He stewed in a quiet, nervous rage until it became obvious that the warrior was going to say nothing more without prompting. Hissing in a little breath, Therion calmed himself, then asked the really important question.

 

"Where is he?"

 

Okay, that one surprised even Therion. Still, there was something off. Alfyn was usually the first one at the tavern, his absence was causing a cold lump of worry to form in Therion's throat.

 

"He was by the beach, last I saw him," Olberic shrugged, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "He was… rather shaken by today's events, I think."

 

Pressing his lips into a line, Therion nodded, thinking. Alfyn had seemed a little off after the fight with Vanessa, that was true. If he needed a minute to himself, who was Therion to judge? Sure, Therion would prefer to avoid his own thoughts, drowning them out among the the comfortable, familiar murmur of the local tavern, but maybe Alfyn was the kind who actually confronted his thoughts, and wanted to do so somewhere quiet. He was an adult who could handle himself, he didn't need a babysitter, and the mead here was particularly good. He'd join the group when he was good and ready.

 

"Damn it," Therion grumbled, tossing back the last of his drink and slamming his mug down in annoyance before rising to stalk out of the tavern and into the night.

 

While Goldshore proper might be a glorious place for a pickpocket like Therion, its beach was, in a word, shit. The beauty of the sparkling sands was undone by the wreckage and filth which had washed up on shore. It was a wonder some upper crust type hadn't paid to have the beach cleaned up for philanthropic bragging rights, given how much disposable income they had lying about, but who was Therion to judge? He wasn't going to fund the cleanup effort, either.

 

Waves broke gently against the shore, sloshing out a quiet rhythm below the dimming sky. Therion squinted as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the wan light of twilight. The setting sun still left a few bands of bright, breathtaking, but quickly darkening color across the horizon, and the brightest of the stars had already begun to twinkle in the deepening purple overhead. Therion only had to trudge a few steps into the loosely packed sand before he spotted a lone figure, sitting on a broken bit of wood that was likely a mast at one point.

 

Alfyn sat silently, slouched with his elbows on his knees, staring not at the sunset, nor the stars which began winking into existence overhead, but at the sand between his boots, and the lone, broken seashell which lay there. He initially made no effort to look at, greet, or even acknowledge Thereion's existence, but he did speak as Therion stood beside him.

 

"...she was gonna let that little girl die," he muttered, his voice uncharastically heavy, each word dropping off his tongue as if it were made of lead. He looked dejected, weighed down. Therion studied him for a long while; his distant, pained green eyes, the way his lips quivered every now and again, as if struggling under the weight of the frown etched upon them. He seemed a different person without his usual jovial attitude and easy smile.

  
Therion waited for him to say more, but that, it seemed, was it. Why was everyone being so tight-lipped tonight? Not talking was Therion's thing, and he took no delight in having to try and drag more words out of the others. Heaving a sigh, Therion settled down on the wood beside Alfyn, focusing his gaze on that distant point where sky and sea became one.

 

"Yeah, well… we can't all be lucky enough to have a do-gooder apothecary in town." He shrugged, working up one side of his mouth in a smirk as he slid his gaze over to Alfyn. "Lucky for her, you wandered along, eh?" He jabbed an elbow out from under his mantle, spearing Alfyn in the ribs. There, see? He could be nice. That's all the bumpkin would need, no doubt.

 

Alfyn didn't react, other than issuing a soft sound when Therion's elbow connected. _Shit, what do I do now?_ Therion had tried one thing, and he was now officially out of ideas. Ugh, this was so frustrating, why did he have to be the one to deal with this? He he was considering returning to the tavern to fetch Ophelia, who would be much better at handling this kind of thing, when he froze.

 

Alfyn shifted, turning his torso and opening his arms, slumping his upper body against Therion's as he clung to the thief's lean form. "Um," Therion muttered inarticulately as he was hit with a wall of warmth, weight, and the distinctly _Alfyn_ scent of the other man. He sat still, hands raised, as the bigger man slumped against him, face pressed to Therion's neck.

 

"She was just gonna let her die," he muttered again, his voice ragged and thin with emotion. Therion's brow crinkled as he slowly, carefully, and awkwardly rested his hands against Alfyn's sides, since he had no other ideas what to do with himself. _Definitely should have gotten Ophelia._

 

Alyn's body shook once, something warm and wet falling against Therions' neck. The thief's eyes went wide--was he… crying? As if to answer the unspoken question, Alfyn swallowed one ragged breath and slouched further, burying his face between Therion's neck and his scarf. Awkward and at a loss, Therion remained frozen for another few moments, trying to decide what to do about the blubbering mass of man pressed against him, and the way his nether regions were stirring with that close contact.

 

"Hey, look… she's gonna be okay," Therion began carefully, patting Alfyn's broad back awkwardly as he fumbled for words. "You showed up and--"

 

Therion's words dissolved into muffled sounds as his mouth was quiet suddenly covered by Alfyn's.

 

Suddenly, Therion's heart was racing, his head spinning, and his cock straining against his breeches as Alfyn's lips, warm and needy, pressed to his again and again. Strong arms drew him closer as the apothecary's big hand found his jaw. For a long moment, Therion was under his spell. His scent, his touch, his taste, the soft way Alfyn clung to him, seeking comfort, assurance were all that composed Therion's world. His mind caught up a moment later.

 

Inhaling sharply, Therion pulled back, snapping his eyes open as he tried to shake himself free of the apothecary's spell. Alfyn slumped further against him, scruffy chin and soft lips wandering Therion's neck and jaw as he held, loosely, to the thief's lean frame.

 

"Please," he muttered quietly, trying to pull Therion closer to him, his every touch begging Therion to melt into his arms. "Please, Therion, I need…" His voice was still soft, rough with emotion and need. Therion felt dizzy, skin prickling with gooseflesh as Alfyn assaulted every one of his senses.

 

_Okay, definitely shouldn't have gotten Ophelia._

 

This wasn't the first time Therion had seen this happen, some men were simply wired that way. Facing one's own mortality often drove them into the arms of another, seeking comfort, needing to affirm life. Only… the battle with Vanessa and her goons hadn't been that close. Sure, she'd put up a good fight, but they'd been through tougher scrapes. So why this, why now? Unless...

 

Unless Alfyn wasn't affirming his own mortality, but that of someone else. Someone he'd saved. There was a word for that, Therion mused distantly, sucking in a deep, unsteady breath as Alfyn's teeth grazed lightly over the pulse point in his neck. _Empathy,_ he thought as his mind finally drudged the word up. _He's a good person, and he still has empathy._ It was a trait Therion was quite sure he'd lost long ago _._

 

All conscious thought shattered abruptly as Alfyn's big palm started stroking Therion through his breeches. Therion's entire body reacted, bucking into the touch as his fingers fisted curled into tight fists, clinging to handfuls of the apothecary's tunic. Alfyn's mouth continue to work, exploring Therion's throat and jaw, his hand coaxing the thief's legs further apart before tugging at the buckle of his belt.

 

A bottle clattered to the cobbles on the street above, followed by the tinkling laughter of a woman. The simple, familiar sounds broke the spell of the moment, bringing Therion back to just how public their little display of affection could be, even under the cover of night. Pulse racing, cock wilting, Therion tried to shake himself free from the circle of the apothecary's arms, ignoring the small, unhappy sounds that invoked.

 

"Shit. Alfyn--No. Not here." He managed to untangle himself enough to take Alfyn's face firmly in both hands, holding the younger man's sad, lusty gaze. "Not here." He said again, steel in his voice, before looking quickly about, checking to see if they'd been spotted. That action seemed to snap Aflyn out of it, a flush quickly blooming across his face.

 

"Oh!" He muttered, eyes wide as he, too, looked about. Fortunately, it seemed they had managed to avoid an audience.

 

"C'mon," Therion grumbled, climbing to his feet, dragging Alfyn up, and herding the bigger man towards the inn. He only made it two steps before he had to pause and adjust himself, he was still painfully hard beneath his laces. Thank the Gods for small gifts like mantles, which were uniquely suited to hiding both pilfered good and half-pitched tents.

 

The two moved quickly through the night, Therion on silent feet, while Alfyn's thumping boots announced his every step. After what felt like years, Therion found himself inside the room they'd rented at the inn, locking the door and leaning against it with a relieved sigh. Therion and Alfyn had become regular roommates; early on in their travels, they used to switch up their lodging partners, until the night Theiron had promised to stab Cyrus in his sleep if he so much as uttered a single word. Afer that, they'd all come to the silent agreement that Therion should room with Alfyn, and Cyrus with Olberic, as Olberic would offer decent protection should Therion ever decide to make good on his threat.

 

No sooner had the thief breathed his relief than Alfyn was upon him again. Therion only got out one, short note of surprise as the apothecary pressed him against the door, mouth working over Therion's, hands wandering. Therion should have objected, he should have called it off, shouted in outrage and stormed away. Instead he closed his eyes, relaxed his body, and drank in all that Alfyn was giving.

 

Time fuzzed away, lost and unimportant under hungry kisses, skilled caresses, and needy murmurs. Therion came up for air, panting as Alfyn finally broke their kiss, having made short work of Therion's belt and laces. Alfyn huffed softly, pulling Therion's mantle and scarf over his head, tossing both aside. Therion reached a hand out, yanking the band from Alfyn's hair and tossing it away before tangling his fingers in the now loose locks. He really hated that stupid haircut, but at least it was less offensive when not tied back. Alfyn hummed, pressing a few kisses down Therion's neck, then dropped away.

 

Therion blinked in confusion at the sudden lack of Alfyn pressed against him. It took him a moment to look down, where Alfyn knelt before him licking his lips as his big hands worked Therion's breeches off his narrow hips, his hard cock springing free. That sight alone was enough to make Therion's prick pulse, a bead of precum leaking from the head before before Alfyn's lips parted, taking him into the wet heat of his mouth.

 

A low, long sound escaped Therion's throat, eyes rolling closed as he tilted his head back against the wall. He spread his legs as far as he was able to with his breeches half way down his thighs, bracing himself as his fingers tangled in Alfyn's hair. He was rewarded by a low happy hum which reverbreated up his shaft as Alfyn swallowed more of him. He drew back, taking Therion in hand as he licked the underside of his prick from base to tip, tongue softly teasing the slit before swallowing him again.

 

Therion hissed and shuddered, thrashing his head from side to side as Alfyn toyed with him in the most delicious of ways, sucking him only briefly before turning his attention elsewhere. Bucking shallowly, Therion watched as Alfyn's lips stretched around his shaft, only to draw back so he could kiss and nibble at the skin of his hips, lick warm stripes up his cock, and bury his nose in the snowy white hair below Theroin's navel. It was a sweet, blissful torture, the way Alfyn teased and tormented, gently rolling his balls in one hand, holding Therion's hips against the door with the other.

 

At last, after what felt like ages, Alfyn licked another beat of precum form Therion's slit before drawing him into his mouth again. Therion's hands quickly fisted in Alfyn's hair, body taunt as a bowstring as he resisted the urge to buck furiously and simply ravage that perfect mouth. "Don't. Stop." He managed to growl the words, his eyes narrowed, hungry, predatory.

 

Alfyn chuckled, the sound vibrating through Therion's cock and up his spine, drawing another hungry moan from the thief's throat. Seeming pleased with himself, Alfyn did as ordered, bobbing his head, twisting slightly as he slowly fed himself more and more of Therion's cock. He hummed and moaned against the thick shaft filling his mouth, all but purring when he finally took Therion to the root, nose burying in his white curls again. He sputtered and cough a moment later as Therion chose the most inopportune time to buck his hips.

 

"H--hey now!" Alfyn croaked as he pulled back, gasping for breath. Tears beading at the edges of his eyes, one hand going to his throat as he peered up at Therion.

 

"Sorry, sorry!" Therion snapped, hands trembling slightly with need. "I just-- _Gods_ but you're good." He hardly knew what he was saying, but Alfyn was there, kneeling before him, lips pink swollen from being wrapped around his cock, one eye closed as his Adam's apple worked. He wanted more. He _needed_ more. It took every bit of his restraint to not simply pounce on Alfyn and… and…

 

"S' all right, just let me do the work," Alfyn rumbled, running a hand down Therion's thigh before he dove in again, swallowing Therion in one, quick motion. A long, ragged sound left the thief as Alfyn's mouth and throat worked, delivering wave after wave of pleasure. One hand kept Therion's hips pinned to the wall while the other wandered, climinging Therion's torso, tracing scars and teasing his chest, sliding down his legs, cupping his sac, even straying Alfyn's own body as he eagerly palmed himself through his pants.

 

Therion drank it all in, opening his eyes whenever he could remember, watching the way Alfyn's head moved, the way he shamelessly pawed at Therion and at himself, how he seemed to take such pleasure in giving pleasure. It all became too much too quickly, Therion felt his balls tighten and twitch, and as much as he tried to will it away, tried to stay in this moment, there was no delaying the inevitable.

  
Sparks filled his vision, dancing before his closed eyes as he came, body bowing forward, as if trying to bury itself further into the warm, wet heat of Alfyn's mouth. His body spasmed, hips bucking of their own accord as he pressed his head back against the door again, a tight, strangled sound slipping from his throat. The world went black and came back to him slowly, with gentle waves of pleasure that shook his lean frame.

 

Alfyn, for his part, clung to Therion's hips, riding out his bucking as best he could with minimal choking, greedily swallowing the pearly jets of seed that flooded his mouth. He hummed, licking his cummy lips as he peered up at Therion, drinking in his glassy, hooded eyes, unphased by the pearly liquid leaking from the corners of his lips and down his chin. He smiled, seeming quite satisfied, before setting to work licking Therion clean.

 

Therion remained still and quiet, steadying his breathing as he came down from his high. It didn't take long for his overstimulated cock to protest the way Alfyn kept licking atit, causing him to twitch and flinch away from the apothecary's ministrations. Alfyn didn't seem to mind, climbing to his feet and pressing his still-clothed form against Therion's mostly nude one. Their lips came together, and Therion flinched at the tangy, salty taste that met him. Alfyn only chuckled.

 

"You taste good," he assured in a low rumble, hands starting to roam Therion's body again, the pad of his right thumb teasing Therion's nipple until the thief growled, swatting it away. Alfyn pulled away, but only enough to shrug off his satchel and tunic before closing in on Therion again, bringing their mouths together as one hand roamed to his lower back, then strayed lower still, fingers trailing down the cleft between the globes of his cheeks, stroking and teasing.

 

Therion went tense in an instant, eyes snapping wide, his heart pounding loudly in his ears as he twisted his hips away. Alfyn let out a low, gut-wrenching moan, dropping his face into the crook of Therion's neck.

 

"Please," he rumbled, nuzzling his face against Therion's skin. "Please let me, it'll feel good," he promised in a low, hushed tone. The prickly hair on his chin, the soft swell of his lips, the heat of his breath, his body, and the memory of his incredibly skilled touch, it all had a profound effect on Therion. His cock pulsed, delighting at the idea of more pleasure from this man, and while he didn't relax entirely, some of the rigidity faded from Therion's body. Alfyn rumbled happily again, responding by drawing him in closer, finger teasing soft circles around Therion's entrance.

 

"It'll feel so good," he promised again when Therion turned his head, revealing more of his neck. Alfyn showered the exposed skin with kisses, guiding the shorter man back towards one of the beds, finger still tracing gentle, teasing circles. Therion pressed himself against Alfyn's chest, feeling himself relax, his mind growing foggy as lust and fear fear warring inside, those soft, soothing touches sending small shocks of pleasure up him, his spent cock already growing thick with want. Finally Alfyn slid his had away, guiding Therion towards the bed. Alfyn pulled away to shrug off his shirt and belt, licking his lips again as he watched  as Therion sprawled onto the bed, fighting to get out of his shoes and untangle himself from the mess his pants had suddenly become.

 

Cursing the gods themselves, Therion finally wretched his leg from his trousers, throwing them across the room with a gusto before turning to watch Alfyn slide his own pants down. And there it was. Rising from a soft mound of blonde curls, big around as Therion's fist, standing tall, and proud, and far longer than it had any right to be. Therion's eyes flicked from Alfyn's cock up to his face and back to his cock again before he spoke.

 

"Nope." He announced flatly, shaking his head and shrinking back, away from the gargantuan beast. "Nuh-uh, not happening."

 

"What?!" Alfyn barked in surprise, looking down at himself then back to Therion with wounded eyes. "Oh, c'mon, now, it's not--"

 

"That's not gonna _fit,"_ Therion announced flatly, pointing one accusing finger at it. Alfyn only chuckled, shifting forward to sit on the edge of the mattress, depositing his satchel beside the bed.

 

"Shucks, it's fit plenty of times," he drawled, winking. Therion did not look impressed. "C'mon, Therion," Alfyn urged gently, reaching to take Therion's hand, weaving their fingers together. "Just trust me," he asked, lips twisting into a small, hopeful, pouting smile.

 

Theiron did not hesitate in ripping his hand free, head shaking again. He found himself at a loss for words, pressed back against the wall, staring at that massive, perfect cock as it strained upwards.

 

"A'right," Alfyn sighed, dropping one hand to the head of his cock, stroking himself slowly, as if his prick needed some kind of simulation before he'd be able to think. Not that Therion could blame him, thinking must be hard when you had to pull that much blood away from the brain. Maybe that's why he was such an idiot half the time, he must suffer minor brain damage every time he popped a chub. Not that Therion could tear his eyes away from that big hand stroking that even bigger cock...

 

"A'right," Alfyn signed again, looking more than a little wounded. "But… just… let me try and convince you, huh? I'll stop if you tell me to."

 

Therion quirked a brow, looking from Alfyn's face to his cock and back again. "Convince me… how?" He asked skeptically.

 

"Turn over," Alfyn said with a wink and a smile, drawing a vial from his satchel.

 

_I'm gonna regret this._

 

An hour, maybe two, maybe a year or two later, time had ceased to exist, Therion writhed face down on the bed, his cock fully hard and leaking again. Aflyn's face and fingers were buried so deeply in his ass, and had been for so long, that Therion was quite sure the bumpkin was going to get lost in there. It was exquisitely terrible, uncomfortable and strange, opening Therion to a whole new set of sensations he hadn't known he craved. And he hated how much he liked them. Alfyn was a good apothecary, but Therion was quite convinced he was even better at this--though with a prick that big, he probably had to be.

 

Alfyn teased with fingers and tongue alike, slowly opening and stretching Therion's squirming body, palming his cock and teasing him sweetly whenever the thief felt close to calling it off. Alfyn rutted his own aching, demanding cock against the sheets whenever the need arose, having painted a massive wet spot beneath his belly as he worked. At long last, all Alfyn's ministrations paid off, his fingers sinking up to the knuckles inside Therion's slicked hole, drawing a delighted sound from his broad chest.

 

"Therion," he whispered, voice breathy and thin from ignoring his own desires for so long. He stared at that stretched, straining hole for a long moment before sliding his hand free, and crawling up Therion's body. He buried his nose in Theiron's hair, dusting kisses across the shell of his ear. "You're ready," he purred in a breathy rumble. "Please… please let me. You've come this far, please…"

 

A pained, frustrated sound tore out of Therion's throat. He should say no--he should've said no hours ago! He shouldn't want this! And yet… and yet his cock jumped at the thought, he was painfully hard and had been for ages, if he didn't fuck or get fucked soon, he was going to explode. Groaning, he turned his face away, burying it in the pillow he had clutched to his chest.

 

Alfyn continued to whisper encouragement, big hands roaming Therion's body, touching and teasing, drawing lusty, frustrated sounds from the thief. He rolled his hips slowly, sliding the length of his cock up Therion's slick crack. Therion shuddered beneath him, then cried out, elbowing Alfyn's hand away, as the apothecary pinched his nipple.

 

"All right!" he barked, cursing the way his back arched up eagerly into that monster appendage. "Just--just make it quick!" He snapped keeping his face turned away.

 

Alfyn pressed a kiss into his hair at the back of his head, issuing a long, unsteady, relieved breath. "I can't be fast, darlin'," he warned, his voice thick with lust, "but I'll make it good for you."

  
He reached beneath them both, pumping Therion's cock a few times to gentle him before drawing back to line himself up. He paused there, shaft in hand, watching how the blunt, pink head of his prick lined up with Therion's slick, winking hole. Therion, tense with anticipation, growled.

 

"Get on with it!" He ordered, but Alfyn only smiled. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the middle of Therion's back before lubing himself up one more time.

 

"Here we go," he murmured, leaning slowly forward, easing himself ever so carefully inside.

 

Fire shot up Therion's spine, his eyes going wide as his entire body jumped. He was--he was going to split in two! What the hell was he thinking, that thing would never fit! He clawed at the sheets even as his back arched, legs splaying helplessly under the massive object which threatened to rip him open.

 

"Gods but you're hot," Alfyn murmured, holding Therion's flailing body tightly against his chest. His voice was thin and strained as he resisted the urge to bury himself in that tauntingly tight heat; after so long teasing, tasting, and touching Therion, and ignoring the demands of his own cock, that desire was almost overwhelming. "Relax--relax, darlin', you got this. You can take it. Don't--don't tense, push. Try and push me out, that'll… help…" That last word came out in a long, almost broken moan as Therion did exactly as told. His pushing allowed Alfyn to slide in several inches at once, drawing cries from both straining, sweaty bodies. Alfyn heaved a huge, hot breath against Therion's back as the thief bit down on his pillow, his brain a storm of panic, pain, and a strange, low itch which he couldn't quite identify.

 

"You can do it," Alfyn rumbled as he started to move, slow, shallow thrusts, easing himself in at an excruciatingly slow pace. "You can take that big cock," he purred encouragingly. "You can--"

 

"Oh just shut _up_!" Therion snarled from around the pillow. Gods but life was better when Alfyn was sucking his cock, at least then he couldn't run his mouth. "You--" Words died on his tongue as something changed. Alfyn slipped even deeper inside, and along with the fire, along with the terrifying feeling that he was going to burst came a shock of pleasure. White hot, it tingled behind his eyes and down to his fingertips. Therion shuddered hard, holding his breath, hissing with relief when the next thrust brought sent another shock of tingling fire through him.

 

Alfyn continued to babble on, whispering encouragement and praise, thrusts coming more quickly as he felt Therion loosen around him and relax beneath him. Therion's back arched, his eyes closed as he lost himself in the lightning dancing thorugh his lips, the fire climbing his spine, and the blunt, thick, pounding rhythm of Alfyn's cock. Big hands roamed his body, mussing his hair, stroking his skin, teasing his chest, pumping his cock, adjusting his hips. The pace built, amping up as Alfyn sank deeper and deeper into Therion, his broad, thick back working furiously over and over as their movements morphed, together, from cautious to frantic with desire.

 

"Shucks," Alfyn finally whispered, his big body draped over Therion's, as if trying to wrap hismelf entirely around the smaller man. "I wanna face you," he muttered between ragged breaths. Therion pried one eye open, looking back at the lines of the apothecary's arm and shoulder as his body worked. "Wanna see you when you come."

 

The low, wanting sound which escaped Therion's throat must have spoken volumes, because Alfyn stopped his relentless pace, pressing his lips to Therion's cheek. Therion's gluttonous cock pulsed beneath him, tender and chafed from having been ground so soundly against the sheets, yet still straining for more stimulation.

 

"Hang on now," Alfyn warned, settling one hand on Therion's hips before slipping slowly out, causing Therion to gulp down a huge breath of air. He felt.. Empty. Hollow, like his insides might collapse. He panicked, hands reaching, clawing at the sheets, trying to crawl away in a blind panic.

 

"Shhh, it's ok," the apothecary assured, strong arms pulling Therion close, lips and hands wandering to try and gentle him again before turning him over. His face descended, bringing his lips to Therion's, strong arms holding him still until he calmed. The apothecary pulled away, sliding down his body to press that full mouth to Therion's chest, then his navel, then his cock. "You're don' great," he added warmly, stealing a glance to Therion's face as he ran his tongue slowly up the length of Therion's shaft again, humming at the tangy taste. Nuzzling his hips, Alfyn slid sliding his hands sown Therion's thighs before hooking them under his knees, guiding his legs up.

 

"I think you bruised my lung," Therion snarled, the effect diminished as he had to keep panting for air. Alfyn barked out a short, surprised laugh, fondness twinkling in his eyes as he smiled down at the half-delirious man beneath him.

 

"Don't think that's possible, but I 'preciate compliment," he replied, winking before lifting Therion's legs so his tanned calves on Alfyn's shoulders. Alfyn hummed as he drank in the sight of the debauched man before him, spread out and waiting. His rock hard and well-stretched, that pink hole winking and wanting, deep scars crisscrossing lean, firm muscles. Alfyn sucked in a short breath, worrying his lower lip as he tried to commit the exquisite sight to memory. Finally, he kissed the inside of Therion's left thigh before easing his legs forward to line himself up again.

 

This time, Alfyn's impossibly thick, slicked cock sank smoothly in, burying itself to the root as Therion hissed, pawing frantically at Alfyn's shoulders as he was so filled so suddenly. "You fit me like a glove," Alfyn purred from where he perched, tenderly massaging Therion's sac, watching as pain and pleasure played across the thief's. He leaned forward, Therion's limber body allowing Alfyn to reach Therion's lips while keeping both his legs hooked over his shoulders, giving him a deep, hungry kiss.

 

"I want to see you to come for me," he whispered before pulling back and plunging fully in again. Therion hissed through his teeth, clinging to Alfyn's shoulders as the apothecary put that strong back, which Therion had been admiring for so, long to work. Still pounding eagerly into Therion, Alfyn pulled him down before leaning his own body forward, doubling Therion over and bringing his ass and lower back off the bed as Alfyn layed into him with a swift, brutal pace. Therion found himself clinging to Alfyn's hair and shoulders for dear life, unable to do anything but groan and thrash his head about. No sooner would he catch his breath, than Alfyn would twist his hips on the way in, or adjust his angle, or pump his leaking cock, and Therion would be lost again, the world spinning around him.

 

At last, Alfyn sat back, pushing one of Therion's legs far forward, watching with lusty eyes as his cock sank deeply into Therion's body again and again. He was sweating, hair clinging this damp face, and flushed with desire. "Touch yourself." It was a request, not a command, panted out and edged with need and hope. "I wanna see you… for me…"

 

A long, low, unhappy sound escaped Therion's throat, but he didn't hesitate, hand shooting down to cup his sac, massaging himself before sliding his hand up his shaft, to the fat, red head of his cock and finally over his abs, slicking his fingers with precome. He turned his face away, biting down hard enough on his lower lip to draw blood as he curled his hand around the hot, delicate flesh, pumping himself furiously, encouraged by the hungry sounds Alfyn rained down over him.

 

"I'm close," Alfyn finally rumbled, one hand sliding down Therion's thigh to grip the firm muscle of his ass tightly, squeezing it before pushing it aside, stretching that pink ring of muscle further, watching as he bottomed out inside that lean, tight body again and again. "I'm so close, I just wanna see you."

 

"Just… shut... up," Terion grumbled between thrusts, tossing his head from side to side as he teetered on the brink, pumping himself frantically, muscles straining as Alfyn ravaged him again and again. It was painful, it was perfect. Iit was too much and somehow not enough. His toes curled as something built low in his body, spilling over him in a sudden wash of hot, white pleasure.

 

Gasping, Therion came, body bucking as he shot thick, ropy jets of cum, painting his abs, his chest, and even his chin. Lightning coursed through his body and crackled across his vision as he curled forward, body contracting towards the source of his pleasure. Alfyn was all around him, holding tightly to him, fucking him even harder and moaning thickly as he joined Therion in bliss. One big hand cradled the back of Therion's head, holding him close as the apothecary rode out his orgasm, filling Therion with wave after wave, thrust after thrust, spilling out of him as he came for what felt like ages ages, hips bucking and twisting, sweat clinging to his straining muscles. His lips found Therion's, kissing him deeply, hungrily, before wandering away, the bigger man humming contentedly as he lapped up sweat and pearly beads of cum from Therion's face.

 

Utterly spent, Therion dropped heavily back against the mattress, moaning softly and twitching as he tolerated Alfyn's affections. The bigger man purred and rumbled above the thief, kissing, nibbling, licking and touching, a soft smile never leaving his lips. And he was talking again, because of _course_ he was. Alfyn was nothing if not generous, especially where affection and praise were concerned, both of which made Therion incredibly uncomfortable. Still, he tolerated it quietly as he steadied his breathing, exhaustion setting in quickly.

 

Slowly, Therion detangled his fist from Alfyn's hair, heaving a long sigh as he dropped it to the mattress. And right into a puddle of something wet and sticky.

 

Cringing, he quickly jerked his hand back, nudging the heavy body currently wrapped around his own. "We need to move to the other bed," he announced flatly. "This one's disgusting."

 

Alfyn chuckled, nuzzling into Therion's neck and humming happily. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea." Pressing a light kiss to Therion's ear, he shifted his weight back, drawing a loud, shocked gasp from the thief. Therion's eyes snapped wide, hands closing around Alfyn's shoulders in an iron grip. Worry flashed across the apothecary's eyes for a moment, only to be quickly replaced by a smile and another Gods damned chuckle. "Hey, 's all right," he assured, cupping Therion's jaw as he slowly, carefully, slid himself out.

 

Therion was having trouble swallowing the lump that was suddenly lodged firmly his throat, and he was convinced that half his insides were going to come out along with that monster cock. How did he ever let himself agree to this?! He clawed at Alfyn's back, sucking in air as his eyes watered-- _no_ , those were most definitely _not_ tears. The panic slowly subsided, and Therion settled, calmed, and found himself left with a new kind of hollow, aching emptiness. Closing his eyes, the thief collected himself, trying to ignore the sweet words and kisses Alfyn was showering him with.

 

"You were amazing," the apothecary purred softly, holding Therion close, as if physically crushing him from the outside could somehow fill the sudden void in his insides. "Took it like a champ, and _Gods_ but you're hot. Usually it takes me way longer to--"

 

"It usually takes you longer?!" Therion sputtered indignantly. Bullshit. Bullshit! They had been at this forever, how could it possibly take Alfyn _longer_? The apothecary had the decency to blush.

 

"Well… it's… it can take a lot of friction, y'see…"

 

"Tsh," Therion hissed, shoving lightly at those ridiculously large shoulders looming over him. "Up, off!" He snapped. "I'm not laying in this cesspool any longer." Alfyn rolled to the side, watching as Therion sat ever so carefully up, cringing as he used the already soiled sheets to wipe the cooling mess of cum and lube from his thighs. Finally, he stood, stepping gingerly, and moved to the other bed, grumbling the whole way. His legs were wobbily, he felt weak, drained, and he'd been so completely, utterly, and thoroughly fucked that he couldn't bring himself to be even half as angry about it as he should be.

 

Sighing, he sank onto the clean mattress, curling onto his side, ready to will himself to sleep. Alfyn sipped away to use the privy, joining him a few minutes later. Of course the apothecary couldn't just sleep, like a normal human, he had to press himself against Therions back, tossing one arm over him as he buried his nose into Therion's hair again, murmuring contentedly.

 

"Thank you," he rumbled groggily, sounding half asleep already. "I… I really needed that."

 

Therion huffed, shifting around to try and get comfortable under the weight of Alfyn's arm. "I'm going to stab you in the morning," he said flatly, wondering, distantly, just where in the room his knives had ended up.

 

Alfyn chuckled, warm breath tickling the back of Therion's neck as they both slipped off into slumber. "I know."

**Author's Note:**

> Therion's a damaged person, but there's no one better equipped to patch him up, body and soul, than my sweet little cinnamon bun Alfyn. 
> 
> This is my first time sharing to AO3, I've got more in mind from these two, if there's an audience. Let me know?  
> I don't have a proofreader, so if I messed something up, please point it out so I can correct.


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